The Housewife Assassin's Killer App by Josie Brown

unbuckles his belt. With one quick motion, he strips it through the loops of his pants and stares at it for a second before dropping it on the bed, beside me. “Later,” he promises me. “What’s pleasure without a little pain? But don’t worry. Afterward, I’ll kiss it and make it better.”
    Two minutes and twenty-four seconds left, and counting…until I kill you.
    Ever the tease, he pulls his shirt out from his pants.
    I reach up and tear off his buttons, exposing rock-solid abs and bulging pecs under broad shoulders.
    He roars with laughter. Then again, his buttons weren’t expensive seed pearls. And besides, he’s got someone to chase them down and sew them back on.  
    He wags a finger at me. “Eager, are we?”  
    You betcha. There’s now less than a minute before I will stab you and be rid of you, once and for all.
    As he yanks my skirt up to my waist, I slip my hand back under the pillow. It grasps the handle of the knife, blade down. Thirty-three seconds left…thirty-two…thirty-one…
    Carl takes time to admire the view of my pink lace cheekini. After giving a low whistle, he hooks the right side with his index finger. Slowly he pulls it down—
    Twenty…nineteen…eighteen… Isn’t Jack finished yet??
    Out of the corner of my eye, I see him, inching his way to the door—
    Until a floorboard under his foot creaks softly.
    Carl freezes, but before he turns his head, I stroke his taut abdomen with a nail on my free hand, raising it slowly, toward his left nipple. When I reach it, I tweak it between my thumb and forefinger.  
    Yes, this has his full attention. He leans down. His mouth hungers for my breast—
    Exposing his neck to me.
    Perfect.
    In one quick motion, I swing my arm out from beyond the pillow and up, deep into his jugular—
    My hand is just a mere inch from his jugular when I feel someone grab my wrist—
    Jack.
    Before I can wrest it away from him, his raises his other hand, and with one swift motion, he jabs Carl’s thick, muscled back, close to the base of his spine—
    With a knife?  
    No, it’s a needle.  
    The result is almost instantaneous: Carl grunts. His eyes cross—
    And he passes out, flopping down on top of me so hard that he knocks the breath out of me.
    As I struggle beneath him, I hiss to Jack, “Why didn’t you let me kill him?”
    “Because I’m tired of breaking you out of prisons. And, besides, if you’re right, the files on his laptop will put him away for life.”
    “‘If I’m right?’ About what? Seriously, Jack, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Oh no?” He whips out his cell phone and presses his email app. “I got this email from you last night, begging me to forgive you, and asking me to come to DC as soon as possible to help you prove he’s the source. So, I lined up Aunt Phyllis to stay with the kids, and—”
    “Did you say…to forgive me ?” I try to shove Carl off, but it’s no use. He’s too heavy. I’m feeling claustrophobic. Not to mention pissed.  
    “That’s not all. When I got to the hotel this afternoon, I received a text from you, telling me that Carl had invited you out to dinner, and that I should break into this mausoleum and run a diagnostic on his personal laptop. You even sent me the code to disarm his home security alarm and webcam feed.”
    “I swear to you, Jack, I didn’t send anything to you!” Who keeps hacking my email and texts?
    “Yes, it’s now obvious to me, because, A, the thought that he’d have a second computer wouldn’t have occurred to you. And, B, you would not have appreciated me walking in on you, with Sleeping Beauty”—Jack lifts Carl’s head up by his hair, only to let it drop again, onto my chest—“here in his bedroom.”
    “He…I…we…” The truth sticks in my throat, like a lump of shame.
    Just then, the thumb drive flashes green. Jack removes it from Carl’s computer.  
    Instead of shoving Carl off me, he heads for the door.  
    “Whoa, whoa…wait